HEEEELP

It is eighteen minutes past bewitching hour and I have got as much sleep in me as a breeze block
So I’ve just watched the ‘Big Hack’, then The Orange Canker putting me into a State of Disunion, during which the very daring Nancy Pelosi tore up pages of lies before our very eyes. And then I washed up, put the plates away, piled a bag of frozen Black Forest fruit into a bowl so they can defrost for tomorrow, put the kettle on for my hot water bottles and prepared tomorrows breakfast, but knew that there was no point in going to bed cos sleep had deserted me, like democracy is slowly doing.
I post this on Facebook, but I’m not sure I should any more. What with their inveigling their way into our affairs and making a profile of me and giving it all to the likes of Zuckerberg. And then I got agitated because I like your comments and my ego gets a nice little shafting when I post stuff that some think witty and apposite, and then I thought the fuckers on Facepuke could take all my ramblings and turn it into a case against me. So I talked to another insomniac, and asked them what we should do and she said;
‘We could round up the arsehole in the Whitehouse, and the geezer at Number ten and Dominic Cumbag and Steve Bunyon and have them all shot.’
‘Isn’t that a little extremist?” I asked.
‘Their fascism is creeping in by the back door, trying to catch us unawares,’ they said – well she said as she hasn’t come out as gender fluid yet.
And then I thought my rage is festering, not good for my blood pressure, and my anger is growing which is fatal for my type 2 diabetes, my fear and loathing is all consuming so I called her back and asked her
‘Really, what should I do?’
‘Go get the gun….’ I hung up.
I’m not sure shooting the lying bastards is the answer. But what is the answer? If the Democrats can’t even impeach the 45th Miscreant, if Brrrrexit has been rounded up and brought home by the outlaw known as Batty Boy Johnson, if the social media platforms have got us all by our short and curlies, if we can’t tell the lies from the truth, if we all go to bed worrying about kangaroos on fire, if we watch the news assiduously but still can’t make sense of it. If the Chinese are dying from a virus, the Yemons are dying from starvation, the Syrians are dying from corruption and the rest of us are dying from frustration with the catatonic response from the voted elite, WHAT ARE WE TO DO?
I can’t keep turning to lefty videos on the internet, or asking my friend what she would do, or reading the papers, or watching documentaries. I feel tongue tied and hamstrung, impotent and overwhelmed. I feel shaky with grief and apoplectic with fury, and still I ask WHAT AM I TO DO?
Enough that we are going through a second industrial revolution. I want my children and their children and their children’s children to hear a cuckoo, and see a tree frog and pet a dolphin. I want them to smell the roses and wake up and smell the coffee.
I phoned the insomniac again and said what if the guns don’t work, what then? And she said.
‘We’re fucked.’
Not quite the response I expected, so I’m gong to have a turmeric latte, sit in the dark and listen to my inner voice, and if she says armed insurrection is the answer I will silence her with a very big bowl of creamy porridge, and if that doesn’t work I will fill my hot water bottles and go to bed in the hope that some calming voice will give me an answer in the morning. Do feel free to offer me your suggestions because somebody out there knows what to do and if you’re keeping it to yourself shame on you.